CHAPTER XI
PETER'S SON
Mint grew under the peach-trees in Colonel Henry Price's garden,purple-stemmed mint, with dark-green, tender leaves. It was not theequal of the mint, so the colonel contended with provincial loyalty,which grew back in Kentucky along the clear, cool mountain streams. But,picked early in the morning with the dew on it, and then placedbouquet-wise in a bowl of fresh well-water, to stand thus until needed,it made a very competent substitute for the Kentucky herb.
In that cool autumn weather mint was at its best, and Colonel Pricelamented, as he gathered it that morning, elbow-deep in its dewyfragrance, that the need of it was passing with the last blaze ofOctober days.
Yet it was comforting to consider how well-balanced the seasons andmen's appetites were. With the passing of the season for mint, thedesire for it left the palate. Frosty mornings called for the comfort ofhot toddy, wintry blasts for frothing egg-nog in the cup. Man thirstedand nature satisfied; the economy of the world was thus balanced and allwas well. So reasoned Colonel Price comfortably, after his way.
Colonel Price straightened up from his mint-picking with dew on his armand a flush of gathered blood in his cheeks above his beard. Helooked the philosopher and humanitarian that he was that morning,his breast-length white beard blowing, his long and thick white hairbrushed back in a rising wave from his broad forehead. He was a talland spare man, slender of hand, small of foot, with the crinkles ofpast laughter about his eyes, and in his face benevolence. One wouldhave named him a poet at first look, and argued for the contention onfurther acquaintance.
But Colonel Price was not a poet, except at heart, any more than he wasa soldier, save in name. He never had trod the bloody fields of war, buthad won his dignified and honorable title in the quiet ways of peace.Colonel Price was nothing less than an artist, who painted many thingsbecause they brought him money, and one thing because he loved it andcould do it well.
He painted prize-winning heifers and horses; portraits from the faces ofmen as nature had made them, with more or less fidelity, and from fadedphotographs and treasured daguerreotypes of days before and during thewar, with whatever embellishments their owners required. He paintedplates of apples which had taken prizes at the county fair, and royalpumpkins and kingly swine which had won like high distinctions. But theone thing he painted because he loved it, and could do it better thananybody else, was corn.
At corn Colonel Price stood alone. He painted it in bunches hanging onbarn doors, and in disordered heaps in the husk, a gleam of the grainshowing here and there; and he painted it shelled from the cob. Nomatter where or how he painted it, his corn always was ripe andseasoned, like himself, and always so true to nature, color, form,crinkle, wrinkle, and guttered heart, that farmers stood before itmarveling.
Colonel Price's heifers might be--very frequently they were--hulky andbumpy and out of proportion, his horses strangely foreshortened andhindlengthened; but there never was any fault to be found with his corn.Corn absolved him of all his sins against animate and inanimate thingswhich had stood before his brush in his long life; corn apotheosizedhim, corn lifted him to the throne and put the laurel upon his old whitelocks.
The colonel had lived in Shelbyville for more than thirty years, in thesame stately house with its three Ionic pillars reaching from ground togable, supporting the two balconies facing toward the east. A squareaway on one hand was the court-house, a square away on the other thePresbyterian church; and around him were the homes of men whom he hadseen come there young, and ripen with him in that quiet place. Above himon the hill stood the famous old college, its maples and elms around it,and coming down from it on each side of the broad street which led toits classic door.
Colonel Price turned his thoughts from mint to men as he came across thedewy lawn, his gleanings in his hand, his bare head gleaming in themorning sun. He had heard, the evening before, of the arrest of PeterNewbolt's boy for the murder of Isom Chase, and the news of it had cometo him with a disturbing shock, almost as poignant as if one of his ownblood had been accused.
The colonel knew the sad story of Peter marrying below his estate awayback there in Kentucky long ago. The Newbolts were blue-grass people,entitled to mate with the best in the land. Peter had debased his bloodby marrying a mountain girl. Colonel Price had held it always to Peter'scredit that he had been ashamed of his _mesalliance_, and had plungedaway into the woods of Missouri with his bride to hide her from the eyesof his aristocratic family and friends.
Back in Kentucky the colonel's family and the Newbolt's had beenneighbors. A few years after Peter made his dash across the Mississippiwith his bride, and the journey on horseback to his new home, youngPrice had followed, drawn to Shelbyville by the fame of that place at aseat of culture and knowledge, which even in that early day had spreadafar. The colonel--not having won his title then--came across the riverwith his easel under one arm and his pride under the other. He had keptboth of them in honor all those years.
On the hopes and ambitions of those early days the colonel had realized,in a small way, something in the measure of a man who sets to work withthe intention of making a million and finds himself content at last tocount his gains by hundreds. He had taken up politics as a spice to theplacid life of art, and once had represented his district in the stateassembly, and four times had been elected county clerk. Then he hadretired on his honors, with a competence from his early investments andan undivided ambition to paint corn.
Through all those years he had watched the struggles of Peter Newbolt,who never seemed able to kick a foothold in the steps of success, and hehad seen him die at last, with his unrealized schemes of life aroundhim. And now Peter's boy was in jail, charged with slaying old IsomChase. Death had its compensations, at the worst, reflected the colonel.It had spared Peter this crowning disgrace.
That boy must be a throw-back, thought the colonel, to the ambuscading,feud-fighting men on his mother's side. The Newbolts never had beenaccused of crime back in Kentucky. There they had been the legislators,the judges, the governors, and senators. Yes, thought the colonel,coming around the corner of the house, lifting the fragrant bunch ofmint to his face and pausing a step while he drank its breath; yes, theboy must be a throw-back. It wasn't in the Newbolt blood to do a thinglike that.
The colonel heard the front gate close sharply, drawn to by the stoneweight which he had arranged for that purpose, having in mind theguarding of his mint-bed from the incursions of dogs. He wondered whocould be coming in so early, and hastened forward to see. A woman wascoming up the walk toward the house.
She was tall, and soberly clad, and wore a little shawl over her head,which she held at her chin with one hand. The other hand she extendedtoward the colonel with a gesture of self-depreciation and appeal as shehurried forward in long strides.
"Colonel Price, Colonel Price, sir! Can I speak to you a minute?" sheasked, her voice halting from the shortness of breath.
"Certainly, ma'am; I am at your command," said the colonel.
"Colonel, you don't know me," said she, a little inflection ofdisappointment in her tone.
She stood before him, and the little shawl over her hair fell back toher shoulders. Her clothing was poor, her feet were covered with dust.She cast her hand out again in that little movement of appeal.
"Mrs. Newbolt, Peter Newbolt's widow, upon my soul!" exclaimed thecolonel, shocked by his own slow recognition. "I beg your pardon, madam.I didn't know you at first, it has been so long since I saw you. But Iwas thinking of you only the minute past."
"Oh, I'm in such trouble, Colonel Price!" said she.
Colonel Price took her by the arm with tender friendliness.
"Come in and rest and refresh yourself," said he. "You surely didn'twalk over here?"
"Yes, it's only a step," said she.
"Five or six miles, I should say," ventured the colonel.
"Oh, no, only four. Have you heard about my boy Joe?"
The colonel admitted that he had heard of h
is arrest.
"I've come over to ask your advice on what to do," said she, "and I hopeit won't bother you much, Colonel Price. Joe and me we haven't got afriend in this world!"
"I will consider it a duty and a pleasure to assist the boy in any way Ican," said the colonel in perfunctory form. "But first come in, havesome breakfast, and then we'll talk it over. I'll have to apologize forMiss Price. I'm afraid she's abed yet," said he, opening the door,showing his visitor into the parlor.
"I'm awful early," said Mrs. Newbolt hesitating at the door. "It'sshameful to come around disturbin' folks at this hour. But when a body'sin trouble, Colonel Price, time seems long."
"It's the same with all of us," said he. "But Miss Price will be downpresently. I think I hear her now. Just step in, ma'am."
She looked deprecatingly at her dusty shoes, standing there in theparlor door, her skirts gathered back from them.
"If I could wipe some of this dust off," said she.
"Never mind that; we are all made of it," the colonel said. "I'll havethe woman set you out some breakfast; afterward we'll talk about theboy."
"I thank you kindly, Colonel Price, but I already et, long ago, whatlittle I had stomach for," said she.
"Then if you will excuse me for a moment, madam?" begged the colonel,seeing her seated stiffly in an upholstered chair.
She half rose in acknowledgment of his bow, awkward and embarrassed.
"You're excusable, sir," said she.
The colonel dashed away down the hall. She was only a mountain woman,certainly, but she was a lady by virtue of having been a gentleman'swife. And she had caught him without a coat!
Mrs. Newbolt sat stiffly in the parlor in surroundings which were of thefirst magnitude of grandeur to her, with corn pictures adorning thewalls along with some of the colonel's early transgressions inlandscapes, and the portraits of colonels in the family line who hadgone before. That was the kind of fixings Joe would like, thought she,nodding her serious head; just the kind of things that Joe would enjoyand understand, like a gentleman born to it.
"Well, he comes by it honest," said she aloud.
Colonel Price did not keep her waiting long. He came back in a blackcoat that was quite as grand as Judge Little's, and almost as long. Thatgarment was the mark of fashion and gentility in that part of thecountry in those days, a style that has outlived many of the hearty oldgentlemen who did it honor, and has descended even to this day withtheir sons.
"My son's innocent of what they lay to him, Colonel Price," said Mrs.Newbolt, with impressive dignity which lifted her immediately in thecolonel's regard.
Even an inferior woman could not associate with a superior man that longwithout some of his gentility passing to her, thought he. Colonel Priceinclined his head gravely.
"Madam, Peter Newbolt's son never would commit a crime, much less thecrime of murder," he said, yet with more sincerity in his words,perhaps, than lay in his heart.
"I only ask you to hold back your decision on him till you can learn thetruth," said she, unconsciously passing over the colonel's declarationof confidence. "You don't remember Joe maybe, for he was only a littleshaver the last time you stopped at our house when you was canvassin'for office. That's been ten or 'leven--maybe more--years ago. Joe, he'sgrowed considerable since then."
"They do, they shoot up," said the colonel encouragingly.
"Yes; but Joe he's nothing like me. He runs after his father's side ofthe family, and he's a great big man in size now, Colonel Price; buthe's as soft at heart as a dove."
So she talked on, telling him what she knew. When she had finishedlaying the case of Joe before him, the colonel sat thinking it over abit, one hand in his beard, his head slightly bowed. Mrs. Newboltwatched him with anxious eyes. Presently he looked at her and smiled. Agreat load of uncertainty went up from her heart in a sigh.
"The first thing to do is to get him a lawyer, and the best one we cannail," the colonel said.
She nodded, her face losing its worried tension.
"And the next thing is for Joe to make a clean breast of everything,holding back nothing that took place between him and Isom that night."
"I'll tell him to do it," said she eagerly, "and I know he will when Itell him you said he must."
"I'll go over to the sheriff's with you and see him," said the colonel,avoiding the use of the word "jail" with a delicacy that was his own.
"I'm beholden to you, Colonel Price, for all your great kindness," saidshe.
There had been no delay in the matter of returning an indictment againstJoe. The grand jury was in session at that time, opportunely for allconcerned, and on the day that Joe was taken to the county jail the casewas laid before that body by the prosecuting attorney. Before the grandjury adjourned that day's business a true bill had been returned againstJoe Newbolt, charging him with the murder of Isom Chase.
There was in Shelbyville at that time a lawyer who had mounted to hisprofession like a conqueror, over the heads of his fellow-townsmen asstepping-stones. Perhaps it would be nearer the mark to say that thechins of the men of Shelbyville were the rungs in this ladder, for thelawyer had risen from the barber's chair. He had shaved and sheared hisway from that ancient trade, in which he had been respected as an ablehand, to the equally ancient profession, in which he was cutting arather ludicrous and lumbering figure.
But he had that enterprise and lack of modesty which has lately becomethe fashion among young lawyers--and is spreading fast among the oldones, too--which carried him into places and cases where simply learningwould have left him without a brief. If a case did not come to LawyerHammer, Lawyer Hammer went to the case, laid hold of it by force, andtook possession of it as a kidnaper carries off a child.
Hammer was a forerunner of the type of lawyer so common in our centersof population today, such as one sees chasing ambulances through thestreets with a business-card in one hand and a contract in the other;such as arrives at the scene of wreck, fire, and accident along with theundertaker, and always ahead of the doctors and police.
Hammer had his nose in the wind the minute that Constable Frost cameinto town with his prisoner. Before Joe had been in jail an hour he hadengaged himself to defend that unsophisticated youngster, and had drawnfrom him an order on Mrs. Newbolt for twenty-five dollars. He haddemanded fifty as his retainer, but Joe knew that his mother had buttwenty-five dollars saved out of his wages, and no more. He would notbudge a cent beyond that amount.
So, as Mrs. Newbolt and Colonel Price approached the jail that morning,they beheld the sheriff and Lawyer Hammer coming down the steps of thecounty prison, and between them Joe, like _Eugene Aram_, "with gyvesupon his wrists." The sheriff was taking Joe out to arraign him beforethe circuit judge to plead to the indictment.
The court convened in that same building where all the county's businesswas centered, and there was no necessity for taking the prisoner outthrough one door and in at another, for there was a passage from cellsto court-rooms. But if he had taken Joe that way, the sheriff would havelost a seldom-presented opportunity of showing himself on the streets incharge of a prisoner accused of homicide, to say nothing of the grandopening for the use of his ancient wrist-irons.
Lawyer Hammer also enjoyed his distinction in that short march. Heleaned over and whispered in his client's ear, so that there would be nodoubt left in the public understanding of his relations to the prisoner,and he took Joe's arm and added his physical support to his legal asthey descended the steps.
Mrs. Newbolt was painfully shocked by the sight of the irons on Joe'swrists. She groaned as if they clamped the flesh of her own.
"Oh, they didn't need to do that," she moaned.
Joe doubtless heard her, for he lifted his face and ran his eyes throughthe crowd which had gathered. When he found her he smiled. That was thefirst look Colonel Price ever had taken into the lad's face.
"No," said he, answering her anguished outbreak with a fervency thatcame from his heart, "there was no need of that at all."
r /> They followed the sheriff and his charge into the court-room, where Mrs.Newbolt introduced Colonel Price to her son. While Joe and his mothersat in whispered conversation at the attorney's table, the colonelstudied the youth's countenance.
He had expected to meet a weak-faced, bony-necked, shock-headed typeof gangling youngster such as ranged the Kentucky hills in his ownboyhood. At best he had hoped for nothing more than a slow-headed,tobacco-chewing rascal with dodging, animal eyes. The colonel'spleasure, then, both as an artist and an honest man, was great onbeholding this unusual face, strong and clear, as inflexible in itsmolded lines of high purpose and valiant deeds as a carving in Flemishoak.
Here was the Peter Newbolt of long ago, remodeled in a stronger cast,with more nobility in his brow, more promise in his long, bony jaw. Herewas no boy at all, but a man, full-founded and rugged, and as honest asdaylight, the colonel knew.
Colonel Price was prepared to believe whatever that young fellow mightsay, and to maintain it before the world. He was at once troubled to seeHammer mixed up in the case, for he detested Hammer as a plebeiansmelling of grease, who had shouldered his unwelcome person into acompany of his betters, which he could neither dignify nor grace.
The proceedings in court were brief. Joe stood, upon the reading of thelong, rambling information by the prosecuting attorney, and entered acalm and dignified plea of not guilty. He was held without bond fortrial two weeks from that day.
In the sheriff's office Mrs. Newbolt and the colonel sat with Joe, hiswrists free from the humiliating irons, and talked the situation over.Hammer was waiting on the outside. Colonel Price having waved him away,not considering for a moment the lowering of himself to include Hammerin the conference.
The colonel found that he could not fall into an easy, advisory attitudewith Joe. He could not even suggest what he had so strongly recommendedto Mrs. Newbolt before meeting her son--that he make a clean breast ofall that took place between himself and Isom Chase before the tragedy.Colonel Price felt that he would be taking an offensive and unwarrantedliberty in offering any advice at all on that head. Whatever his reasonsfor concealment and silence were, the colonel told himself, the youngman would be found in the end justified; or if there was a revelation tobe made, then he would make it at the proper time without being pressed.Of that the colonel felt sure. A gentleman could be trusted.
But there was another matter upon which the colonel had no scruples ofsilence, and that was the subject of the attorney upon whom Joe hadsettled to conduct his affairs.
"That man Hammer is not, to say the least, the very best lawyer inShelbyville," said he.
"No, I don't suppose he is," allowed Joe.
"Now, I believe in you, Joe, as strong as any man can believe inanother----"
"Thank you, sir," said Joe, lifting his solemn eyes to the colonel'sface. The colonel nodded his acknowledgment.
"But, no matter how innocent you are, you've got to stand trial on thisoutrageous charge, and the county attorney he's a hard and unsparingman. You'll need brains on your side as well as innocence, for innocencealone seldom gets a man off. And I'm sorry to tell you, son, that JeffHammer hasn't got the brains you'll need in your lawyer. He never didhave 'em, and he never will have 'em--never in this mortal world!"
"I thought he seemed kind of sharp," said Joe, coloring a little at thecolonel's implied charge that he had been taken in.
"He is sharp," admitted the colonel, "but that's all there is to him. Hecan wiggle and squirm like a snake; but he's got no dignity, and nolearnin', and what he don't know about law would make a book bigger thanthe biggest dictionary you ever saw."
"Land's sake!" said Mrs. Newbolt, lifting up her hands despairingly.
"Oh, I guess he'll do, Colonel Price," said Joe.
"My advice would be to turn him out and put somebody else in his place,one of the old, respectable heads of the profession here, like JudgeBurns."
"I wouldn't like to do that, colonel," said Joe.
"Well, we'll see how he behaves," the colonel yielded, seeing that Joefelt in honor bound to Hammer, now that he had engaged him. "We can putsomebody else in if he goes to cuttin' up too many didoes and capers."
Joe agreed that they could, and gave his mother a great deal of comfortand assurance by his cheerful way of facing what lay ahead of him. Hetold her not to worry on his account, and not to come too often and wearherself out in the long walk.
"Look after the chickens and things, Mother," said he, "and I'll be outof here in two weeks to help you along. There's ten dollars coming toyou from Isom's; you collect that and buy yourself some things."
He told her of the order that he had given Hammer for the retaining fee,and asked her to take it up.
"I'll make it up to you, Mother, when I get this thing settled and cango to work again," said he.
Tears came into her eyes, but no trace of emotion was to be marked byany change in her immobile face.
"Lord bless you, son, it all belongs to you!" she said.
"Do you care about reading?" the colonel inquired, scarcely supposingthat he did, considering the chances which had been his for developmentin that way.
Mrs. Newbolt answered for Joe, who was slow and deliberative of speech,and always stopped to weigh his answer to a question, no matter howobvious the reply must be.
"Oh, Colonel Price, if you could see him!" said she proudly. "Before hewas ten years old he'd read the _Cottage Encyclopedy_ and the_Imitation_ and the Bible--from back to back!"
"Well, I'm glad to hear you're of a studious mind," said the colonel.
As often as Joe had heard his mother boast of his achievements withthose three notable books, he had not yet grown hardened to it. Italways gave him a feeling of foolishness, and drowned him in blushes.Now it required some time for him to disentangle himself, but presentlyhe looked at the colonel with a queer smile, as he said:
"Mother always tells that on me."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," comforted the colonel, marking hisconfusion.
"And all the books he's borrowed since then!" said she, conveying asense of magnitude by the stress of her expression. "He strained hiseyes so when he was seventeen readin' Shuckspur's writings that theteacher let him have I thought he'd have to put on specs."
"My daughter and I have a considerable number of books," said thecolonel, beginning to feel about for a bit more elegance in his methodof expression, as a thing due from one man of culture to another, "andif you will express your desires I'm sure we shall be glad to supply youif the scope of our library permits."
Joe thanked him for the offer, that strange little smile coming over hisface again.
"It wouldn't take much of a library, Colonel Price, to have a great manybooks in it that I've never read," said he. "I haven't been easy enoughin my mind since this thing came up to think about reading--I've got abook in my pocket that I'd forgotten all about until you mentionedbooks." He lifted the skirt of his short coat, his pocket bulging fromthe volume wedged into it. "I'll have a job getting it out, too," saidhe.
"It don't seem to be a very heavy volume," smiled the colonel. "Whatwork is it?"
"It's the Book," said Joe.
Colonel Price laid his hand on the lad's shoulder and looked himstraight in the face.
"Then you've got by you the sum and substance of all knowledge, and thebeginning and the end of all philosophy," said he. "With that work inyour hand you need no other, for it's the father of all books."
"I've thought that way about it myself sometimes," said Joe, as easy andconfident in his manner with the colonel, who represented a world towhich he was a stranger from actual contact, as a good swimmer in waterbeyond his depth.
"But if you happen to be coming over this way in a day or two you mightstop in if it wouldn't trouble you, and I could name over to you a fewbooks that I've been wanting to read for a long time."
"I intend to lighten your brief period of confinement as much as it isin my power to do," declared the colonel, "and I c
an speak for mydaughter when I say that she will share my anxiety to make you ascomfortable as human hands can make you in this place, Joe. We'll comeover and cheer you every little while."
Mrs. Newbolt had sat by, like one who had been left behind at away-station by an express-train, while the colonel and Joe had talked.They had gone beyond her limited powers; there was nothing for her to dobut wait for them to come back. Now the colonel had reached her point ofcontact again.
"You'll be rewarded for your kindness to the widow's son," said she,nodding her head earnestly, tears shining in her eyes.
When he was leaving, Colonel Price felt that he must make one moreeffort to induce Joe to discharge Hammer and put his case into the handsof a more competent man. Joe was firm in his determination to giveHammer a chance. He was a little sensitive on the matter under the rind,the colonel could see.
"If I was to hire the best lawyer I could find, Colonel Price, peoplewould say then that I was guilty, sure enough," said Joe. "They'd say Iwas depending more on the lawyer than myself to come clear. Well,colonel, you know that isn't the case."
That seemed to settle it, at least for the present. The colonel summonedthe sheriff, who took Joe to his cell. As the colonel and Mrs. Newboltpassed out, Attorney Hammer appeared, presenting his order for themoney.
Mrs. Newbolt carried her savings with her. When she had paid Hammer shehad sixty cents left in her calloused palm.
"That's egg money," said she, tying it in the corner of her handkerchief."Oh, colonel, I forgot to ask the sheriff, but do you reckon they'll givemy Joe enough to eat?"
"I'll see to that," said Hammer officiously.
Hammer was a large, soft man in an alpaca-coat and white shirt without acollar. His hair was very black and exceedingly greasy, and brushed downupon his skull until it glittered, catching every ray of light in hisvicinity like a bucket of oil. He walked in long strides, with a slidingmotion of the feet, and carried his hands with the palms turned outward,as if ready instantly to close upon any case, fee, or emolument whichcame in passing contact with him, even though it might be on its way tosomebody else.
Mrs. Newbolt was not unfavorably impressed with him, for he seemed veryofficious and altogether domineering in the presence of the sheriff, buther opinion may have been influenced perhaps by Joe's determination tohave him whether or no. She thanked him for his promise of good officesin Joe's behalf, and he took her arm and impeded her greatly in herprogress down the steps.
After Mrs. Newbolt had taken some refreshment in the colonel's house,she prepared to return home.
"If I had a hoss, madam," said the colonel, "I'd hitch up and carry youhome. But I don't own a hoss, and I haven't owned one for nine years,since the city grew up so around me I had to sell off my land to keepthe taxes from eatin' me up. If I did own a hoss now," he laughed, "I'dhave no place to keep him except under the bed, like they do thehoun'-dogs back in Kentucky."
She made light of the walk, for Joe's bright and sanguine carriage hadlightened her sorrow. She had hope to walk home with, and no wayfarerever traveled in more pleasant company.
The colonel and his daughter pressed her to make their home herresting-place when in town, even inviting her to take up her abode thereuntil the trial. This generous hospitality she could not accept onaccount of the "critters" at home which needed her daily care, and theeggs which had to be gathered and saved and sold, all against the happyday when her boy Joe would walk out free and clear from the door of thecounty jail.